Harry Potter Drabbles
by TragedyBunny
Summary: A collection of drabbles based on Harry Potter, most orginally posted in lj communities. I love HermioneSnape fics, and hope to work with that pairing a lot. Of course there'll be other characters I delve into. Now completed.
1. Simply Lucky

_Harry Potter copyright J.K. Rowling_

Simply Lucky

The whole of his world knew his name, and a good number of them were terrified of. After all, he was not one to be taken lightly; he had beaten death and achieved all of his desires, except for one. All that stood between him and this last desire was luck, plain and simple.

Yes, the Potter boy had been very lucky throughout his life. Now it seemed that his luck was running. The Dark Lord smiled malevolently to himself thinking of Dumbledore's death. The smile was followed by a vicious howl of laughter that filled the room in which he sat. "Soon Harry, this reversal of fortune shall see me to my destiny."


	2. The Spice of Life

The Spice of Life

Hermione slammed the roll of parchment on Snape's desk and leaned over it towards him, shouting with out any regard to possible consequences.

"You are being entirely unreasonable about this,_ sir !_" Normally she wouldn't dare to raise her voice to a teacher, but losing this many points on her homework, because somehow Neville had made his cauldron explode yet again, had pushed Hogwarts' resident know it all over the edge.

"And you, Miss Granger, are behaving like a spoiled toddler throwing a tantrum." Snape was never above insulting a student, especially where Hermione Granger was concerned.

"What are you going to do about, throw me over your knee and spank me?" One of Snape's eyebrows twitched at her words, and an unreadable emotion passed through his eyes.

"Miss Granger that was the most wildly inappropriate thing I've ever heard from a student." They Stared icily at one another a moment before Hermione turned her head away sullenly.

"I respectfully request that you reconsider your decision sir." In an instant all the will to fight seemed to have vanished from her.

She thought she heard him sigh faintly. "Leave it here and I'll look it again, but don't expect anything."

Barely suppressing a smile at her victory, Hermione hurried towards the door before Snape could change his mind. Never knowing what possessed her, she turned back just as she clasped the handle and smiled mischievously at him.

"You never know sir; I might enjoy something wildly inappropriate like that." The quill in Snape's hand snapped in half, the look on his face plainly telling her that he wouldn't mind the prospect either. Still smiling she turned and vanished out the door, brown curls bobbing behind her.


	3. The Truth Within

The Truth Within

Tom Riddle had experienced many surprising things in the years of his life, some were pleasant and some were horrible. Many of the pleasant ones had come from his family; many of the horrible ones were the fault of the Gaunt family, Merope Gaunt in particular.

For it had been to his horrible shock one day to wake up and find his lovely wife transformed into an ugly and despicable hag. She had further dismayed him with her confession that she was a witch and had been keeping him with her via a love potion. The worst astonishment was when he raised his hand to a woman, and then ran away from her.

After Tom fled his wife, he had no idea that the worst was yet to come. One morning, he woke alone in a bed at his parent's home with a terrible yearning for her body beside his. He searched for her, but she had vanished after he left her, as though her existence was merely some fevered dream of his. For Tom Riddle the worst surprise in life was that he had actually loved his ugly wife Merope.


	4. Wolfsbane

Wolfs bane

The boy sprinted across the expanse of greenery before him, the grass bending pleasantly under his feet. Above the orb of the full moon shone brightly, illuminating the outline of the tees toward which he was running. He knew his father had forbid him from any outings at night, but the magnetism of the gorgeous night and his familiar forest had been too much. Just as the edges of branches caressed his skin, he heard it, an ominous howling that seemed to come from all directions at once. Still being young enough to be foolhardy, he pressed onward, the forest closing around him.

Again, a terrible howl pierced the air around him, making his hair stand on end. This time however, the howl seemed to be coming from his immediate vicinity, made even more eerie by the lack of other noise within the woods. His boyish courage evaporating, he turned on his heel to flee back the way he came. His lungs burning, he dashed toward the open field, believing he would make until his world was eclipsed with pain.

He cried out as great jaws latched themselves onto his thigh, ripping into the flesh. He crumpled to the ground, feeling the heat of his own blood flowing over his skin. He rolled over, attempting to push himself off the ground. He gasped as the muzzle of a great, yellow eyed, beast was shoved into face. The wolf beats growled as it contemplated his struggles to unpin himself from its bulk. The more he struggled, the more the world about him seemed to spin causing his stomach to lurch violently. The beats blurred before him, just as the edges of his vision began to grow dim.

He was vaguely aware of his father's voice coming from somewhere in the dark, crying out his name, "Remus, Remus", then all was quiet and darkness.


	5. Hermione's Secret

Hermione's Secret

She loved it, dark and strong, what more could one want? She loved the things that would happen to her, her insides fluttering and her mind stirring. She had a passion now, a secret obsession no one could know about. It had power over her very soul, giving her energy and life. This small pleasure stemmed all the way back to her first years at Hogwarts, something to keep her striving at the pace of perfection.

There were nights when she hated it as well. Those silver nights when she'd toss and turn on her pillow, sleep denied to her, until the sun finally roused the rest of her dorm mates for classes. She hated the times when she would ramble incoherently, a bundle of nerves on fire. It made her stomach tie itself in knots and her appetite would fail. Her health often suffered dreadfully because of her hated love.

Hermione weighed all these things in her mind as she observed the object of her obsession. Sighing to herself, she reached for the coffee pot to pour herself yet another cup. Sometimes she wondered if there was some sort caffeine users anonymous group.


	6. Bitter Sweet and Strange

Bittersweet and Strange

It had been a typical day for Severus Snape, filled with lack witted students and irksome colleagues. To top off the most extraordinarily irritating day he'd had in a long while, he was now forced to clean his own classroom as Filch was ill.

It was in the back of the room that happened upon what appeared to be a very old book with the word "Beauty and the Beast", written in gold leaf on the cover. The title seemed oddly familiar and curiously he flipped open and the book and read the first page, only to discover it was nothing but a common muggle fairytale.

"Rubbish", he muttered snapping it shut, and making his way back to his desk. Instead of throwing it away however, he put it in his briefcase, on top of all the other books.

As he sat at the desk in his office that evening, correcting the latest batch mediocre essays, his eyes strayed to the book he had unconsciously carried with him all day. Without much thought, and never really sure why, he pulled it towards himself and began to read, every few seconds mumbling words like "pathetic" under his breath. However, he found himself staring at the end of candlestick some hours later, as he looked from the book he had just finished. Snorting to himself he tossed it back into his briefcase and extinguished his candle.

Fairytales were the ridiculous invention of the muggle mind, completely lacking any merit what so ever, or so Snape told himself every time the story crept back into mind, wrapping its shadowy tendrils around his rational thoughts. For weeks the story haunted his every other moment, foiling every attempt at banishment. It refused to be driven from him, as though it had taken root in some unconscious stream of thought and had something to say on the subject. He hated it, the way the mythical love mocked him at every turn, especially in spring when love seemed to blossom over the entire campus and couples retreated to deserted hallways between classes.

The story followed him all the way out of the castle and down the path to the Quidditch pitch. He tried to lose it in thoughts of the upcoming match, of his house beating Gryffindor consequently Potter. He was unaware of the figure descending the intersecting path, turned slightly to the side, waving to someone.

The two collided with enough force to throw the girl to the ground. He glared at her after regaining his balance; she had fallen to the ground and was picking herself out of the mud.

"Granger, learn to watch where you're going!" He snarled at her. He was shocked when she stood up and glared at him.

"Excuse me sir." Her voice dripped with sarcasm. Normally, he would have taken points for such brazen behavior, but instead he watched wordlessly as she walked away. When had those eyes grown so fierce? When had her voice become so hypnotic? When the hell had know it all Granger become a woman?

He avoided her the next few days, not daring to even look at her in class. Every time he glimpsed her deep brown eyes he felt an emotion he disliked greatly coursing through him, followed by a warm sensation that almost made him smile.

He did not know why he watched her now as she worked tirelessly over a long roll of parchment. Coward that he was, he was hidden behind a large bookshelf, peering between books at her, his breath burning in his chest.

When he thought she looked his he turned quickly and fled his post, only to run into the object of his adoration. This time however, she did not fall over, as he caught her in his arms. Hastily he let go of her and looked away as a blush graced his sallow skin.

"Professor…are you alright?" He dared to raise his eyes back to her, surprised to see the tiniest bit of concern showed in her expression.

"I'm fine." He tried to sound like his usual nasty self, but failed as his voice came out in barely a whisper, as he turned his head away again.

Hesitantly, a dainty hand reached towards him. Clutching her wrist, he drove her hand away from him, desperate to be left in peace. He must have gripped her hard though, because he heard her gasp in pain before he released her.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled, held prisoner by her enchanting gaze. He could feel her emotions, tangible in the air between them, confusion, surprise, and, dare he hope, something else. His hand hesitantly caressed her cheek, making its way down to gently cup her chin, tipping her face upwards. His heart thudded loud enough that he was sure she could hear it. His mind in a fog, he slowly lowered his lips towards hers and kissed her ever so softly.

For a moment he knew peace and contentment, until remembered he was kissing a student in the middle of a library, a student who more than likely despised. He ripped his lips from hers and fled in horror of his own sin, his desire of the unattainable.

Fleeing to his office, he locked the door behind him before collapsing in a chair, shaking and feeling the unpleasant sensation of tears in his eyes. He was a fool; he'd never believe his own idiocy. Once again his eyes found the accursed book, the story of a woman who could look past surfaces and love that which was within. He flung the book across the room, hating it for its lies. There was no truth in fairytales, and no Beauty could ever love a Beast such as Severus Snape.


	7. The Terror

The Terror

"Do you think it could be?" Goyle stuttered casting dumbfounded glances at Crabbe. Malfoy's face scrunched up into an absolutely hateful expression.

"Of course not, don't be stupid." He stormed out of the Slytherin common room, irritated the anyone could believe such a ridiculous rumor.

McGonagall fretted with her hands, pacing back and forth in the staff room. Things were rapidly spiraling out of control in the, and she was worried the governors would demand more action; something was for all practicality, impossible.

Severus and Fillius were both gazing inot the fire with the same worried expression. Even Sibyll Trelawney had been concerned enough to leave her tower for the staff meeting. She turned to the headmaster who was standing amongst his staff looking terribly downtrodden, clouds darkening his blue eyes.

"Oh Albus…what will we do?"

"Hey Lee, meet us at the library, got something to share with you. Filch hasn't moved from his post, but look out, we're not certain when he'll leave."

Fred & George

Security was extra tight, so mischievous exchanges had to be conducted in more dangerous places than usual. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." Fred tapped his wand to the parchment to make sure the way was clear before leaving Griffyndor tower.

He could feel them, pointing, whispering, accusing, everywhere he went. Even those of his own house began to turn against him. For the first time he could feel a sliver of hate seeping into his heart. How dare fate ruin even Hogwarts for him?

Padma and Cho sat whispering excitedly to one another. "Can it be?"

"Do you think?"

"What if…"

"Can't be…"

"…but Justin…"

Strolling by Penelope caught a snippet of the conversation. The prefect turned to glare at them. "For the last time, he is not the heir of Slytherin!" She stormed away, irritated with the mob mentality that was growing within the school. Just as she reached the library, an excited Hermione Granger burst through the doors, clutching a mirror in one hand and a piece of paper in the other.


	8. Moth to a Flame

Moth to a Flame

He was fire to her, dangerous, beautiful, brilliant, and captivating. His brilliance had always been alluring, but he had violently rebuffed, giving her minor burns every time they connected.

In later years she could only admit to herself how captivating he had become to her. His black eyes glittering in the castle's candlelight, stalking majestically through it's halls, an aura of power around him. Alone in the dark nights she would almost wish that she had been put into his house, then maybe he'd have a kind word for her. His mind made him beautiful to her, she began to feel terrible pangs of desire whenever he was around, her dreams filling with so many wanton images.

She tries so very hard to impress with her intellect, but he steadfastly refused to allow her to do so, forcing her to tears on many occasions. When everyone was asleep, she allowed herself to mourn her mistaken affections. Then came that summer, and their affair right under everyone's noses. She wasn't sure how it had begun, a kind word here or there, soon a glancing touch, and the overflowing passion. Sure she had been young, but she believed she could handle it, after all she was so much more mature than all the other girls her age. She swore she'd never forget those heavenly nights at Grimmauld place, wrapped together in his bed, sharing the joys of the flesh. In his arms she'd felt safe and warm, and had dared hoped that he could hold the same affections for her that she had for him.

He had burned her so badly though. That fall he refused to acknowledge any relationship other than teacher and student, treating her just as deplorably as ever. The burns he had given her had just recently begun to heal, so that even as she studied him now from her desk, she could still feel a bit of the old ache. What Hermione didn't know was that the fire was about to turn into an inferno, and Severus Snape would soon burn them all beyond any reckoning.


	9. Tarnished

A tear hit the floor, then a second, he wasn't crying for him, he was crying for her, because she had truly loved him, she of course thought he was crying for him. "Just think on all the good memories of your father." Those were her words to him, his sweet, delusional mother. She loved her son, yet she still had the ability to fool herself into believing him distressed by the man's death.

"What good memories?" He muttered to himself, tromping up the stairs; sending the house elves scampering off in fright.

In his room he allowed himself to fall face forward on the bed, giving into the exhaustion that had been plaguing him for what seemed like forever. The cold reality was that he didn't have a single memory of his father that wasn't marred by some nastiness or another, foul words, sharp blows, and those constituted the more pleasant ones. His mother always said that he was only trying to push his son to greatness. He didn't blame her, she wasn't aware of the…other happenings, how could she be.

His father had been a demanding man, and his discipline had been more than strict. It wasn't the physical abuse that had shattered his childhood; it had been those dark nights of unspeakable horrors at his father's hands. Horrors were what he called them as a naïve child; he knew what they were now.

Oddly enough the memories of these nights were some of his clearest, the sound of his door opening, the heavy footsteps, and the voice pleading with him to cooperate quietly, the hands on his skin, the pain and the terrible pleasure. What transpired between father and son on those nights left a stain on his life that could never be washed clean. This was the legacy left to Draco, memories of hell.


	10. From Dreams to Nightmares

"Your first time should be special." That's what her mother had always told her, save your virginity for the right person. The words had filed her head with silly daydreams of white nightgowns, rose petals, candlelight, and true love.

She wondered what her mother would say were she alive to know of her daughter's "first time". She'd be horrified; she could imagine her mother's tears for her baby girl.

She watched the chest of the man beside her rise and fall. How she hated him, her first lover. Here amongst the black satin sheets, in the palace of death, her first time had been special indeed.

Sitting there staring into the seemingly endless darkness, she could almost find the insanity to laugh at her condition. They had told her she was lucky, a mud blood who would now be spared. He had given the choice when they had hauled her to his chambers, life as his willing slave, or death. The choice was hers, and he was the road to both ends.

She had been a coward then, unable to find the strength to meet an honorable death; Hermione Granger had chosen a life of shame. She knew she would wish for death now, pray for it. Alone and humiliated, she would cling to him. Perhaps, in a twisted way, she would come to feel for him. Before there could be anymore tears this night, she lay back down beside him, shivering in the cold. "Hermione…" he whispered, his lust apparent.

"I'm here, Lord Voldemort." She shivered as he reached for her in the darkness.


	11. You and I

Tinsel and holly just wasn't her scene, she had been dragged from her cozy apartments down to the great hall for the Hogwarts Christmas festival, a tradition born from when Voldemort had finally been defeated. Well, at least she would save face by being here, as the school's transfiguration professor, it was expected she would attend these sorts of function. Never mind that she felt utterly out of place among the merry makers at this lavish spectacle.

She stood with her back against the wall, nursing a drink, a scowl on her face. Ever since her parents' murder, the holidays had lost their glamour, now they simply seemed like nothing more than a hollow farce in the face of the things she had seen. It was this new attitude she had developed that put her apart from the rest of the staff, students, and even some of her old friends. It was the apartness, illustrated so elegantly by a dress of black amid the house and holiday colors, and her distant stance that made him feel their sameness so acutely. He watched like always from afar. At first he'd never dreamed of approaching her, but as the days dragged on it became clear that someone would need to approach her.

With the crowd pressing around him and the colors swirling in his mind causing dizziness, he calmly came to her side. "One would think you not enjoying yourself."

He leaned arrogantly against her wall; he needed to catch her attention if he hoped to speak to her. "I am enjoying myself, how could one not in such an engaging social atmosphere?"

He smiled at her. "So it's true what they say you've developed a bit of a bitter streak." She fixed him with her best glare. "Honestly, as much as it pains me to say this Hermione…"

"Then don't Severus, I don't need a lecture from you as well."

"Speaking from experience, you need to stop drowning yourself in the past and learn to live again." She looked away, feeling the tears prick her eyes. She knew he was the one person that could sympathize with her, the only other one who could know what it was like to feel invisible and alone in a room this crowded with familiar faces. A hand closed over her own. "Impossible child, why are you so stubborn?" She didn't respond. Sighing in resignation he let go of her hand. "You know where to find me if you want to talk."

He began to walk away, he was almost absorbed within the crowd when he felt a tugging his sleeve. Her tears had been put away, but the innate sadness she always possessed hung in the air around her. "Thank you." It was barely a whisper. With infinite melancholic grace she reached up on tip toe to place a feather light kiss on his cheek. "Wait for me Severus?"

"I'll wait forever." He pulled her into his arms and held her tight, the world kept spinning, oblivious.


	12. A Cinderella Story

"You must give him a son." Narcissa whispered in her ear, delicately touching the place where the child was growing inside her. _Unlike the girl I gave him four years ago. _Ginny finished the woman's thought in her head. She knew her mother in law all too well by now. It had been something they hadn't let her forget, even her husband in his own way held it against her. He loved her, she was sure, but he was a wealthy man, a man who had certain expectations to adhere to. Therefore, as a rich man's wife, she too had standards to which to strive to.

She had entered _Aedes Draco Manor_, the very house her husband was named after, a blushing, excited bride, high on the war's end. Her excitement had faded into trepidation as the upper class picked themselves up and slowly restored their rigid society. When his mother arrived, Draco joined with them, the old families continuing as if the last few years had never happened. All of these new strangers made it perfectly clear that she was nothing but an unwelcome pauper.

Since she would not be gotten rid of, her mother in law endeavored to mold her into a decent wife, dressing her, instructing her on etiquette, and drilling her on poise and grace. She hated it all; she was even made to sleep in separate rooms from her husband, as was "proper".

When it was appalling clear that she wasn't good at any of it, the enemies rose up around her, society girls, burning for her downfall, in hopes of taking her place. Against her they wielded the weapons of gossip, vandalism, petty violence, and cold exclusion. Finally, when Glorianna was born, she fell under a storm, from which there was no escape.

At first she took shelter in her love, but even he grew distant when another pregnancy didn't occur. This child was her last chance for happiness. If it was a boy, she would be untouchable, and their love would be restored.

When finally the maids left her for the night, Ginny curled up beneath her covers and cried. Everyday she could feel her strength ebbing away, her flame fading. Ginny had discovered what it was like to be a rich man's wife, to live in his world.


	13. The Jokes On You

Harry slowly strode into the Great Hall though the massive double doors; not knowing what awaited him there. The note that had summoned him here had been vague at best, but he was too intrigued to resist. He treaded forward and suddenly before him in the Head Master's chair appeared Albus Dumbledore. With owlish eyes he gazed at the image.

"Are you a ghost sir?" He whispered.

"No Harry, I am very much alive."

"But how?"

Dumbledore looked solemn for a moment, and then very slowly a grin spread across his features before he doubled over in laughter. Between great rolling chuckles he managed to squeeze out the words, "I'm sorry everyone, I couldn't help it."

With a flash, light filled the Great Hall, which was populated with all the staff and students. "I don't get it."

Dumbledore wiped tears from his eyes as McGonagall stepped forward, eyes twinkling. "You've been the object of the greatest prank in wizarding history."

Dumbledore began to hysterically laugh again. "You should've seen your face Harry; you actually thought I was dead!" The room suddenly dissolved into giggles. Harry's eyes roamed the teachers, his brow furrowing in frustration, he found the two "killers".

"And you two?"

"In on it the whole time." Snape leered at him. "Me kill Dumbledore? Honestly Potter, what were you thinking?"

"Yeah, Sevy here can't resist a good hoax." Cheekily Malfoy reached out and pinched Snape's arse, earning him a glare and a firm spank.

"Ron, Hermione?" He asked pitifully, hoping against hope they weren't part of this.

They came forward, clinging to one another in mutual giddiness. "Sorry Harry, but watching over the last week was terribly hilarious."

Angrily he turned to Ron. "Are you two even really going out?"

"Heck no mate, I'm as gay as it is, most of the family is too, except Mum, Dad, and Bill."

"Ginny?" Hermione turned a curious shade of red and looked away.

"Hey she wasn't a lesbo last year!" Malfoy shouted.

"You weren't a preening fag either!" Ginny's voice came from somewhere in the crowd.

"What the bloody fuck people!"

"Ah, I see Mr. Potter, this is where you're coming from. I believe your issues are quite understandable."

"Yes sir, and that's why I'd like to join up."

"Welcome aboard." He extended his scaly hand and Harry shook it. "You'll make a fine Death Eater Potter


	14. His Venus

Cherry red locks, scented with the jasmine that filled the air around them, spread around her shoulders, those silken strands that he craved to have wrapped around his fingers. Her lips pressed fevered kisses to the entirety of his too thin frame. A steady flush was rising in the much adored freckled face as desire swept them both away.

A glowing goddess lay before him, belonging only to him. He longed for every inch of her soft, warm skin to be pressed against him; he yearned for the deepest of her secrets. The goddess spoke and wrapped him in her golden song, his name on her lips. It was a sin to be here, profaning her sacredness, but want had long ago overwhelmed resistance.

Star filled eyes captures his, time vanished. With earthly perspiration and pain, the way toward heaven was made clear. The goddess opened her secrets to him and both ascended. With blood, the child gave birth to the woman, and nothing would ever be the same between them, and yet nothing would change.

Cooling skin pressed against him for warmth, delicate hands found his. Two had become one in this secret place, and now Nyx's chariot was driving forth, stealing the last of the day. In the last golden rays, watching she was his, exhausted from their glorious journey, Harry knew what beauty was.


	15. And The Band Played On

"War is an intricate dance between two sides." Mad Eye Moody had said that a lot, it made Ron want to kick him. First off, he hated brainy things like metaphors, people could never be nice and simple and literal, and second, it was a poorly fit metaphor, people didn't die from dancing with each other, aside from the occasional unfortunate circumstance.

At first in those bleak days of fighting, it had been something to laugh at. He could remember Hermione giggling as she told him to "put on his dancing shoes", before an encounter with Death Eaters. It had been Hermione who first got to dance with Voldemort personally, and then the old master of the waltz himself, Moody. He knew he'd be next, something inside of him told him so, despite rational protests to the contrary. Some one knocked on his door. "Ready Ron?" Harry's voice was terribly shaky.

"Yeah," He gathered up his wand and opened the door to face his friend. "Let's do it." He let Harry lead him along and never noticed himself humming. It was a rather pretty song he'd heard at a number of the muggle funerals he'd been to lately. It was moment before Harry turned his eyes toward him.

"What's that?" He queried in a horribly quiet voice.

"Music to dance with."


	16. Pale

She was always the one who listened from the shadows, watched from afar. She was, and she was there, and yet she was no where. Round and round they chased her, yet never could they find her in the place where she hid.

It was pleasing to her this way, being able to vanish, to be so far away. This was her game, something that was her own, to make them seek her and lose them at every turn. Maybe her delight in it was wicked, as they said, but she considered them deserving of her game. They were the ones who had nothing but derision for her. They had given her this fate.

So she would go on, the quiet observer, the game player, disappearing and appearing at convenience, a world away from theirs. For after all, Petunia Evans was nothing more than a ghost to her family.


	17. Haiku

Winter blows fiercely

Summer's blossoms have withered,

Mourn for the young pine

The plains are bereft

Autumn's pine stands alone here,

Where death is hunting


	18. Arms Wide Open

Hero is what they called me; battle is what sustained me, and later on hatred. I lived for danger, existed to punish dark wizards. It was no surprise therefore, that I became an auror, a career she ardently begged me not to pursue. Fighting and killing were all I felt capable of after the war's end, after I had killed my greatest enemy. My life was trivial, something to be gambled in the pursuit of the eradication of evil. And in one moment, all of that changed…

I felt the breath fleeing my body as I sank to my knees; hoping, wishing, praying. Tears blurred my vision as my mind grasped at belief uncomprehendingly. Memories of her and I painted themselves in brilliant hues on the canvas of my mind. All at once a great calm over took me. I felt her delicate hands upon my shoulders as she repeated the words I still could not yet fathom. "Harry, you're going to be a father." Tenderly I wrapped my arms around her, my family, my whole world, knowing that nothing would ever be the same.

She kneeled beside me, concern evident in her green eyes. "Aren't you happy?" My lips instinctively find their way to hers, and with I kiss I tell of thee joy I do not have the words for.


	19. A Prison of Her Open Making

Ginny Weasley had it all, a considerable measure of fame after the war, and rich and loving fiancée, and because of her fame and fiancée, power within the wizarding world. Yet, despite all this, she felt as though there was something lacking. Perhaps it was caused by seeing him for the first time in years last night.

Sighing, she played with an errant strand of hair while staring out the window, awaiting Draco's return. If her ever found out about these feelings she harbored he'd be devastated, to say the least. The last thing she wanted was to see him hurt. Angrily she tugged at the obnoxious red strand. Why was she thinking about him at all? He was the one who had insisted all those years ago that there could be nothing between them. How he could make her burn though, even after the time had passed, the mere mention of his name was enough to set her soul aflame. Clearly picturing him in her mind, she whispered his name to the air around her, unconsciously a hand began to sneak its way up her thigh, near her skirt hem.

"Stop that!" She scolded herself. She dearly wished she could exercise him from her being. "Draco, you poor fool, you have put all your trust in a wicked woman." Maybe she should just leave him; it would be kinder wouldn't it? She certainly didn't deserve him. Agitatedly, she sprung up from the couch and began to pace.

The other man's voice spoke in her mind. "Meet me, tomorrow night, in Diagon Alley." His sensual voice had melted her senses. She bit her lip, wondering what the hell was keeping Draco.

"Ginny, my sweet." She whirled on the intruder, knowing full well who it was.

"Who gave you permission to just apperate into my house?"

"You did, by looking at me with those glorious, wanting eyes last night. I knew you wouldn't come to meet me, so I decided to come to you." He laughed and she forgot to breathe.

"Draco will be home any minute." It was a feeble protest.

"No he won't, I've arranged a harmless distraction in the form of several boring meetings that the ministry insists are top priority. He'll be there all night." He swooped down on her, taking her into his arms. "Now, my pretty little angel, what trouble can we get into all alone?"

"Oh, I hate you, go away."

"No you don't, and that is the root of your dilemma."

He kissed her fiercely and Ginny moaned into his mouth. An errant hand found its way under her skirt, graceful fingers finding their way into her panties to caress her hidden wetness. She didn't resist. All her feelings for Draco were effortlessly shoved aside; there was no stopping them now he was in her blood. Ginny Weasley belonged body and soul to Severus Snape.


	20. Biohazard

"Hagrid, why is this forest so forbidden anyway?" Ron asked irritated, they'd been wandering for hours.

"I forget exactly." At this Hermione quirked an eyebrow at the boys, a hopeless look in her eyes.

"Ron, it's forbidden because of all the dangerous magical creatures here." Harry sounded acutely annoyed.

"Really…hey what's that?" He pointed to a spot in the distance.

"Oh Ronald, stop trying to scare us."

"I'm not, I heard something."

Hagrid made a pained face. "Alright, I'll check it out, stay here you three." His massive form disappeared into the forest, leaving them in silence. Hermione managed to cling to both Ron and Harry in the tense minutes that ticked by.

"Do you think something happened?" They both gave her a look that said, "are you crazy bitch, of course something happened, this is Hogwarts".

"Arg, they're eating me!" A voice that was unmistakably Hagrid's screeched.

Eyes wide and breathing shallow, the trio dashed forward to help the fallen man. They reached him too late, Hagrid lay on the forest floor unmoving. Something sat above him, face buried in intestines. Slowly, it turned its head to reveal a decaying face.

"Ugh, uhhh." Was all the noise it made as came slowly toward them.

"What the hell is it?" Ron's face had lost all color.

Harry and Hermione , being familiar with muggle horror movies answered in unison. "Zombie!" Before dragging Ron along with them in flight.

"What's a zombie?"

"The undead that eat your flesh." Hermione still managed to be the one to answer a question first. The zombie was still following them and was in short order joined by a whole gang of zombies, no fancy dance moves included.

"Shit, we'll have to stand and fight." Harry scrambled for his wand. "Adeva Kedavra!"

"You fucking moron, they're already dead!"

"Well you think of something Miss perfect."

"Incindio!" A zombie in the encroaching group burst into flames and stumbled about before falling over.

In vain the three hurled spells at the mass of creatures. Moments passed and Harry looked around to find himself alone and surrounded, though he could still hear his friends in the distance. "Jesus Christ, what next?"

A small number of creatures encroached on him and he bolted off into the forest, trying to desperately to out run them. Back against a tree, he shouted enchantments randomly as he sunk to the ground. A near skinless face edged closer and closer. He closed his eyes waiting for death.

The unmistakable sound of a gun shot caused him to open them. Glancing behind his he saw a man with incredible hair holding a smoking gun.

"You alright?" The American spoke as he kicked the fallen zombie.

"I'm fine, but who the bloody hell are you?"

"The name's Leon Kennedy, I deal with this sort of thing. You can move along, I've got the situation under control. He vanished into the dark and more gunshots were heard.

Harry stared after him wide eyed for a moment before trekking back to find his friends. They were sitting in a clearing looking completely traumatized. Hermione threw her arms around him.

"Harry, did he save you to?"

"Huh?"

"The sexy American."

"She means the irritatingly smug yank." Ron interjected.

"Oh yeah him, he did. Let's get out of here."


	21. Hidden Desires

Slightly chapped lips crushed themselves against her silken ones, those lips that had once touched _his. _His hand tangled into her hair, hair that had once found itself resting on _his _chest. Memories, illusions, and fantasies all tangled themselves into an endlessly swirling whirlpool within his mind. He could never escape them, images of_ his_ body against hers, hers against his, and by proxy, _his_ body against his. They came together through her, were one within her.

In the darkest realms of his consciousness it was _him_ he was with, _him_ that he belonged to. This was his secret, the poison that could destroy them both. He tried to bury it, tried to banish it, but it refused to leave him, this desire that burned within, and when Hermione's lips met his in the dark, he couldn't resist the thought of Victor.


	22. Only You

The familiar cold sensation enveloped him, tears rolled down his face. "I can't…I can't live like this, go on in this madness."

"You can't die, you have to go on," she smiled weakly, "but if you do die you'll always have a place with me." It was selfish of her to want him to be dead, but oh how she yearned for someone to share her dreary world with.

He slammed his fist into the wall, cursing himself for being weak. His father would be disgusted. He sniffled miserably. "No one knows me like you do Myrtle, no one."

"Does that make me special?" She felt a wave of girlish delight at his words.

"I guess it does." He dried his secret tears, ready to face his life.


End file.
